Foxtrot
by Sabriel41
Summary: For a moment they were quiet, and Reno moved to lean against the wall as well. 'I suppose,' he added, 'this is where I ask you to dance.' [RenoYuffie, postgame. Gift for Tijuana Pirate]


_**Foxtrot**_

_-_

****

_"…The Book of Love is long and boring  
__No one can lift the damn thing  
__It's full of charts and facts and figures  
__And instructions for dancing_

_But I…__ I love it when you read to me  
__And you, you can read me anything…"_

_- _"The Book of Love" – Peter Gabriel 

- 

* * *

.

Yuffie Kisaragi _hated_ dancing. And dresses.

Yet here she was, strapped into some archaic contraption with straps and slits and other foreign devices that she was sure Vincent – the lovable, masochistic vampire that he was – had some part in creating. Teef had assured her half a million times that the purple brought out her eyes, or something like that before they had left for the Ball, but she wasn't convinced. 

Ah, the things she did for her friends. Like showing up for this shindig. Like reassuring Tifa that she looked lovely, poured as she was into a show-stopping crimson dress. 'Teef,' Yuffie mused, didn't have the right to worry, looking over at her friend whose attention was now focused solely on the man dancing with her. The woman could wear a chocobo feed-bag, and half of the pompous windbags here would still be perfectly thrilled to follow her around. _Course, that's if Spikes didn't cleave 'em in half first_, she chuckled. 

She was half-convinced that she loved them both the more for their unconscious glamour; they were easily – _easily_ – the most stunning couple in the room, and she almost bit back a smirk at the thought that both of them were completely oblivious of that fact. Smirks might not be appropriate with evening dresses, Yuffie thought to herself, but she was the _princess_ of this place, and she had slipped a leg holster holding four shuriken under her dress when Tifa wasn't looking. It seemed those infernal slits had a purpose after all… 

One way or another… if anyone had a problem, she could deal. 

Moreover, she _really-_really loved Spikes because he'd just finished passing a couple of his more powerful Materia onto her with a brush of his bangs and a casual shrug before the dinner and dance in the Wutaian palace. In the aftermath of…everything, it had been one of the few cities to remain somewhat intact, so the Midwinter festivities had been moved from their usual Midgarian base to the island city. 

_For your hometown,_ he'd said. _Cherish them…cherish it, Yuffs. We're not all so lucky…_

And he had blushed just the slightest as he'd told her this. He'd saved the world, that guy, and yet he was still Cloud Strife; still brash and bashful in equal measures. Hard to believe that barely a year ago, they'd been facing their last battle in the arctic Crater; that the world that they had known was a breath away from ending. 

In a way, she thought, pulling up an errant strap, that world _had_ ended. _Still_, she sighed, slouching against the wall, _some things haven't changed._

All the 'guys' gave her a courtesy dance, each with different levels of awkwardness. Cloud and she had stumbled jokingly through the steps – it was clear that Tifa was the dancer of the pair – where Cid had kept her at a careful distance, scowling over her shoulder at a beaming Shera, letting her go at the end with a ruffling of her carefully styled hair. 

And she'd tensed just enough to shout at him for it when his gesture to indicate the packed room – and the lull of noise between songs – reminded her how much she didn't want to cause a scene. How much Godo had 'reminded' her not to cause a scene. But she wasn't about to let the pilot smirk at _her_ like the cat that ate the canary. So she reached up on her tiptoes and messed his equally coiffed hair right back, winked at Shera, and scampered away from a miffed Cid as quickly as she could in a floor-length dress to join Godo on the small dais. 

He'd been her last dance; Vincent, Barret, and a quietly charming Reeve had already whirled her around the floor. And princess or not, Yuffie was now sulking at the edge of the dance floor. Unfortunately, it didn't look like things were going to be changing in that respect anytime soon, either. Most of the local lords (and sons of lords) were either too intimidated by her, or weren't Considerable Options where dancing partners were concerned, and she'd exhausted the short repertoire of her fellow travelers. She had called her old friend Jaden up, but he was working late at the Turtle's Paradise, and wouldn't be able to save her from looking like the petulant, pathetic child that she knew she resembled more with each passing moment. 

Slouching further against the wall, Yuffie played with the thought of ditching the party altogether; she'd fulfilled her obligations and she'd kept her promise to Teef, noting that her small watch read an hour and a half exactly from the point that the dance had started. It wasn't as if anyone would notice that the 'brat' was gone, anyways… She'd just pressed her hands behind her to push herself off of the wall, when a voice halted her in mid-movement. 

"Oi! _Posture,_ princess." 

Yuffie grimaced. It _couldn't_ be him. Maybe if she closed her eyes really, really tight, he'd disappear. After a few seconds, she opened one eye just a fraction. Nope. In fact, he'd moved closer, brilliant crimson hair and disturbingly piercing green eyes filling her vision. 

_Ah well,_ she mused, _only one way to be rid of him. Fire with fire… _"Like you're one to talk, Red," Yuffie replied, taking in his unruly hair and charcoal grey suit that looked suspiciously like it had been pressed and then deliberately rumpled afterwards. "Laney do your laundry for you?" 

His smile was slow and disarming; his voice a casual drawl. "Yeah. It shows?" 

His smile was also contagious, it seemed, because try as she might to resist – he was the Enemy, if an unfairly cool one - she returned it. "Little bit. So, what're you doing here, Red?" 

Green eyes turned hurt, but she could still see them dancing. "I'm not allowed to have fun, Yuffie?" 

She shrugged. "Suppose you can, if you want. 'S a free world. But I know where _everything_ is in this place, and if it's broken or missing or 'decorated'…" Yuffie paused, using the slit in her skirt to give him a quick view of her shuriken holster – and, unconsciously, about a mile of leg. Oblivious to the impressed expression that had snuck across his features, she continued. "…then I know whose arse to kick in the morning." 

After a few seconds of silence on his part – silence was about as much his style as it was hers – she reached out and slapped his shoulder lightly. "Yo, Reno. My face is up _here._" 

He couldn't help but chuckle at her righteously indignant expression. "So it is…" And for a few moments, they were quiet; Reno moving to lean against the wall as well. "I suppose," he added quietly, "that this is where I ask you to dance." 

Now this was unexpected, and Yuffie couldn't help but look over at him, shell-shocked. "You _dance… _Scratch that. You want to dance with _me?_" Reno looked from her to the dance floor, where couples whirled in a decidedly indecipherable fashion – even Strife seemed to be keeping up with Lockhart, he noted with a degree of surprise – and grimaced. Turning his attention back to the shinobi girl, who looked as baffled by the dance as he felt, he replied. "To this? Hell, no. I couldn't tell a 'feather weave' from a 'natural step' if they wore nametags. Just thought it would break the ice, to ask. And yeah. It could be better than holdin' up the wall, right?" 

Yuffie furrowed her brows slightly at his comment. "For a guy who says he can't dance, y'know a lot more of the mumbo-jumbo terms than I'd think…" 

He only shrugged. "What can I say? Some of us are just gifted, Princess…" But she noticed the corner of a book sticking out from his pocket; a book that, with his shrug, it was clear he was trying to hide. Before he could do anything about it, she leaned over him and snatched it. "Dancing for Dumm…" was about all she could get out before she found herself in a curious embrace; backed against the wall with one of his arms wrapped from behind her neck and covering her mouth; the other reaching for the book that she was trying to keep out of his grasp. 

In any other situation, Yuffie thought, this would have been an easy situation to get out of. Bite his hand, knee his groin; the man was undeniably attractive but he wasn't _that_ gorgeous. But her damnably rational brain decided to remind her before she did that he would likely yell, or curse, or both. That would draw attention to the two of them. And then she would have to explain to her father, and half-a-dozen irate, weapons-toting father and brother figures exactly _why_ she was being (if somewhat innocently) pinned to a wall by a Turk in the first place. 

Unfortunately, this wasn't any other situation, so she settled for glaring at him and petulantly handing back his book. "I knew it," she whispered gleefully once he'd taken back his book and stuffed it in his pocket. "You _can't_ dance." 

To which he only cocked an eyebrow and whispered in reply; "Maybe, but at least I stay off the floor. Cause, you know, I didn't just see you treading all over Strife's and Valentine's feet, _did_ I now?" At her murderous expression, he knew he'd hit a nerve. He also knew he was safe; she wasn't about to kill him; not now, if only because she _couldn't_... "My job," Reno added with a note of triumph, "at least doesn't require dancing. Aren't princesses supposed to be naturally graceful or something?" 

"Psht," Yuffie returned. "Overrated. I'm graceful when it counts." Expression turning speculative, she leaned on her right shoulder to face Reno, who had moved back to his spot against the wall. "So if you know so much about dance," she began, "what's this one called?" 

"Foxtrot," he replied glibly after watching the couples for a few seconds. "You can tell from that move right…there," he added, pointing out a pair of dancers as they took a sweeping turn. 

"I hate to say this, but…" Yuffie trailed off as she took in the sight of the petite blonde and her companion approaching them, and smiling at them. 

"…I'm impressed. You actually read that book, Ren." Elena interjected, ignoring the redhead's protests and curses. Smiling, she took an enthusiastic hug from Yuffie. "How's it going, Lady Kisaragi?" 

"Don't pull that formal stuff on me, Laney! It's bad enough I'm in a dress…" 

"We noticed," Rude's baritone rumbled. "So did my colleague with you, it appears…" 

Reno only shrugged, but Yuffie could feel her cheeks turning crimson. "Y'see, there was this book…" 

"Yuffie, it's okay. We just wanted to say hi, and to make sure that Ren here wasn't bugging you too much." Elena's eyes turned to Rude as she finished. "Now…you owe me a dance, I think…" 

Even behind the sunglasses, Rude's expression clearly read "help me," but with a straightening of his shoulders and a small smile, he led the blonde woman onto the floor, stoically ignoring Reno's wolf whistle. 

"So…" 

"So…" she mimicked. "They're going out, right," she asked, pointing to where Elena and Rude had taken the traditional waltz position on the floor, waiting for the music to cue. 

Another shrug. "Don't think so…" 

Yuffie grinned wickedly. "They will be. Laney's almost got him worn down…" 

"No way…" Reno replied. "He's just going along with her 'cause she won't shut up 'till he does. 'Sides, she's still hung up over the old Boss-Man…" 

She couldn't help but scoff at that statement. "Does Laney _look_ like a girl who's hung up over some other guy? I mean, honestly…" Smiling softly, Yuffie looked from the duo on the floor to the redhead beside her. "Red?" 

Reno looked up, surprised. "Yeah?" 

"Did you mean it?" 

Hiding a smile, Reno replied. "Did I mean _what_?" 

Scuffing her toe on the floor, Yuffie rolled her eyes. "You know 'what'…" To her surprise, he extended a hand to her at her words, except instead of waiting for her to take it, he grabbed her hands a second later and pulled her off the wall which she was leaning against. 

Once she was standing, he brushed his long bangs back, and used his other hand to straighten her shoulders. "What'd I say about posture?" 

"Nothing really," she quipped. "'Sides, do you even know this dance?" 

"Touché," he replied, pulling out his book dramatically, and flipping to the section on 'waltz.' "Let's see…" But after a few seconds of perusing the movements detailed in the book, with Yuffie casting covert glances at it, he chucked the book over his shoulder and shrugged. "To hell with that," he added jauntily, ignoring the fact that his toss had landed Elena's book squarely onto a plate full of appetizers. 

Yuffie could only blink. "Ah…" 

"Better than holding up walls…" he taunted. "Just don't make me look ridiculous." 

"Ditto," Yuffie snapped, a fiery hint to her voice as she took a step closer, and slipped one hand onto his shoulder, trying not to think of how well the dark suit offset his hair, or how he smelled of something equally unidentifiable and intoxicating as she did. "Well? The song's starting…" 

Smoothing the hair that Cid had ruffled earlier with unexpected gentleness, Reno laughed. "Save it for the salsa, spitfire. Waltz is a gentle dance…" 

"Salsa?" she asked, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

_Something about her_, Reno thought. _Can't help but smile…_ "Yeah, Princess. Salsa. Provided you don't pound my feet through the floor with those spike heels of yours first…" Slipping an arm around her waist, and ignoring _Elena's _wolf-whistle from a little ways to their left as he did so, he winked down at Yuffie. "Shall we dance?" 

She smirked up at him through her bangs. "How do I know you won't pound _my_ feet through the floor?" 

He pretended to consider this. "Well, lessee. Gun-arm, Strife, Valentine, and the pilot would kill me, for starters. An' then Laney and Lockhart would go to work on me… Those several good reasons aside, you can't know. You'll just have to trust me." 

As the music started, and his arms drew her just a fraction closer, she smiled and did exactly that. And, as it turned out, he _could _dance. 

…_finis…_

* * *

__**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own any part or parcel of the FF7 folks; they're Square's. Same goes for "The Book of Love," which is the property of Peter Gabriel, or originally the Magnetic Fields. 

**Sabriel's**** Scribbles: **This one is for Tijuana Pirate, a wonderful writer in her own right, and a great friend. Hope you enjoyed it, T. Pirate! (She'd been suffering from Reno-withdrawal; and so, under the influence of a lack of sleep and the American version of "Shall we Dance" (and the song above…) "Foxtrot" was born.) As an aside, this fic stands alone; however, it occurs about one year after the end of the game, and roughly one year before "Believe" begins. It does fit in that fic-arc.


End file.
